


where our dreams are made of gold

by synchronysymphony



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Children, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fraternities & Sororities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchronysymphony/pseuds/synchronysymphony
Summary: Robin's over her head with a research project. Fortunately, Chrom can help.





	where our dreams are made of gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharlotteCharade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteCharade/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my darling butterfly!!! You're such a treasure, and I wanted to write something for you ♥♥ I know I haven't played the game, but I tried to make the story interesting, at least :D okay, enjoy!
> 
> _(please be gentle with me; I've never written a story for Fire Emblem before, and I'm scared that I don't know what I'm doing)_

Robin has a problem.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t have to do with her amnesia, or her budding crush on the Phi Epsilon Alpha president, or even that weird guy who keeps texting her and referring to himself as The Dragon (caps included). It’s a little refreshing to be faced with something else, actually, or it would be, if she weren’t so preoccupied in worrying about it. Unfortunately, she  _ is _ worrying about it, so there’s no peace to be found in the mundane after all.

That’s why she finds herself walking to PEA after class, looking for Chrom. Ever since he and his little sis found her passed out in front of frat row, amnesiac, confused, and bearing no identifying markings but a fuckboy’s phone number scribbled on her hand, they’ve been her go-to support system, her team whom she can trust with anything– and trust them, she does. She’s probably three times more likely to be at PEA than her own dorm. 

Sure, it also doesn’t hurt that Chrom’s the most attractive person she’s ever met. But that’s secondary.

Probably. 

Maribelle meets her at the door. She’s always here, because Lissa is, and wherever Lissa is, Maribelle wants to be also. Emmeryn has offered to take her on as a little sis a couple times, but Maribelle isn’t really interested in Greek life. She’s just interested in Lissa. 

“Hello,” she says, proper as always, though there’s a hint of warmth that even her clipped tone can’t hide. “Please come in. Would you like to talk to Chrom?”

Robin appreciates that she  _ knows _ . “Please,” she says. “And if you and Lissa are free, I’d appreciate your input, too. I’d like your advice on something.”

“Of course.” Maribelle points her to the stairs (freshly cleaned, probably by Frederick-- really, the man needs to realize that he lives in a frat house and general nastiness is just part of the package). “Go on up. Chrom and Lissa are in his room.”

Robin goes to the end of the hallway, ignoring the weird frat-boy noises coming out of each door she passes, until she’s reached the ostentatiously decorated, curtained monstrosity marked “President.” Chrom never did have a lick of taste.

“Hi,” she calls, peeking her head in.

“Robin!” Chrom pops up from his chair to wave her all the way inside. He looks genuinely happy to see her. “Sit down, sit down! Can I get you anything? Frederick got this fancy new beer from World Market, and I have a couple in my fridge.”

“It’s double malt,” sniffs Maribelle as if that’s the worst thing ever, though it could be, for all Robin knows. She shrugs anyway. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

“Sure, I’ll take one.”

Once Robin is settled in next to Lissa on Chrom’s bed, double malt beer and all, she turns to her friends as if preparing to address a council of war.

“Guys, I need some help.”

“Is it that Dragon guy?” asks Chrom sympathetically. 

Robin sighs. “I mean, he’s always a problem. Did you know he got a new phone? Now he won’t stop texting me.”

“Wait, really? Even after you blocked him?”

“Yeah. He sent me this creepy message about how I’ve ‘always been connected with him’ and how we’re ‘two halves of a whole’ and how he ‘really wants to be inside me’ and stuff like that. Really gross edgelord shit.”

“Creepy.” Chrom shudders. “I’m going to punch him as soon as I find out who he is.”

“I wish you would. He’s seriously annoying. Especially since I’ve never even met him.”

“You must have at one point, though,” says Lissa. “I mean, wasn’t it his phone number that was on your hand when we found you? Maybe we could hypnotize you, and you could remember stuff about him. And then we could all go punch him.”

Robin considers this. “I’m not sure that’s how hypnosis works.”

“It could!”

“Isn’t Jakob a psych major?” says Maribelle. “Let’s ask him. Maybe he can do a hypnosis for us. Just in case.”

It’s an interesting thought, or at least it seems to be to the others, but the mention of academia, though brief, serves to remind Robin of where she is, and why. “No hypnosis,” she says. “We have a problem.”

“We do?”

“I mean, I have a problem.”

“Same thing,” says Chrom, which is really sweet, and reminds Robin all over again just how much she likes him. She punches him on the arm, because she wants to show her affection somehow, and kissing him right on his pretty mouth probably wouldn’t be appropriate. 

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Me too,” says Chrom, which doesn’t really make sense, but Robin can roll with it. 

“So you know my linguistics GE?” she begins without any more preamble. The others nod; they’ve heard her complain about it multiple times already during these first three weeks of the new quarter. “So, I took it because all the reviews said it would be pretty easy, which is what I want, because I’m an international relations major, you know? I don’t do ‘science.’ But the problem is, now I need a child.”

Chrom blinks. “Come again?”

“A child. I need you to help me get a child.”

There’s a silence, and then, “We’ll leave you to it, then,” says Lissa brightly. “Come on, Maribelle, let’s leave these two alone.”

Robin smacks her. “Shut up. It’s not like that. I just need a young child, preferably under eight years old, so I can do a case study on their language patterns.”

“What, and you need an actual child to do this? You can’t just use a corpus?”

“No, it’s so annoying. My professor wants us to get hands-on experience in the field, which is nice and all, but the only way to do that is to  _ get a child _ .”

“A child, I see.” Maribelle exhales slowly. “Goodness, that’s difficult. You can’t really go up to someone and ask to do research on their children.”

“You could offer them money,” suggests Lissa, but Maribelle tuts at her.

“That would be unethical.”

“Wait!” Chrom bounces up and down on his chair, smiling all bright and shiny. Now  _ he _ looks like a child. Robin has to fight the urge to coo. “Robin, I just thought of something!”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“The preschool. Couldn’t you ask them for a child?”

“Preschool?”

“Yeah, the one on campus.”

“I didn’t even know there was one on campus,” says Robin blankly. Chrom nods. 

“Yeah, it’s on the south edge. I went there a couple times for my human development class. They’re really nice! I’m sure they could help you.”

Amazing. This is just proof that networking really works; Robin presents her problem, and within minutes, it’s resolved. Chrom is like a miracle (in more ways than one).

“Thank you so much,” she says. “You’re awesome.”

“Aww, no. It was nothing. I just hope it works out.”

“I’m sure it will.”

Despite her confident words, though, there’s still a feeling of trepidation in Robin’s stomach, sitting like a lump of rubber. Sure, she may have a lead on where to find a child, thanks to Chrom, but now she actually has to  _ get _ the child-- and interact with them. How is she supposed to do that? She’s not good with kids. They’re so small and impressionable, and she never knows what to say to them. This might be because it’s a natural talent she doesn’t have, or because she doesn’t remember her own childhood and is unable to connect with anyone who does and is living it, but either way, it’s hard, and she doesn’t know what to do.

Somehow, Chrom seems to notice her hesitation. He pokes her with his bottle of beer. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I mean, it’s not  _ wrong _ , really. I just don’t know how to talk to kids.”

“Oh, really?” Chrom grins at her “Hey, don’t worry about it. I can help you.”

“You can?”

“Sure. I love kids.”

“It’s true,” Lissa interposes. “PEA had this outreach event, and no one else wanted to deal with the kids, so Chrom did it. And he was great.”

Chrom holds his arms out wide in a dramatic thank-you-for-the-validation gesture. “See? Commendation. Don’t worry, Robin, I got this.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. I’m here for you, babe.”

This, along with the hug that Chrom gives her when she says goodbye, is enough to make Robin blush for the rest of the afternoon.

\--

The preschool isn’t big, but Robin’s still nervous as she walks in the front door. If it weren’t for her grade, and for Chrom standing by her side like a knight in frat-boy armor, she’d be tempted to turn around and leave right now. She’d emailed the director beforehand, and Chrom had assured her multiple times that students often need the children’s help for research, but even so, she feels like she’s intruding. 

“Are you sure they won’t mind?” she asks. 

Chrom turns to look at her. He’s holding a stuffed dog plushie. “What’s that?”

Robin really had no idea. All her thoughts are gone, replaced by sugary marshmallow fluff. How can Chrom be so cute? He’s a gym-going, beer-pong-playing, lecture-skipping president of a fraternity, tough and buff, and a solid fan of the mirrored-shades-and-snapback combo. And he’s holding a dog plushie. 

“Where did you get that,” she manages, because she has to say something. 

“Found it on the floor. Finders keepers, right?” Chrom makes the plushie dog wave with one of its paws, and speaks in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. “Hi, Robin! My name’s Spot! Don’t be scared, no one around here bites except for me!”

Robin can’t help but laugh, not only at the weird falsetto that Chrom apparently thinks is appropriate for a dog, but also at the ridiculousness of the juxtaposition of big, muscly dude and baby talk. Chrom offers her a lopsided smile, obviously pleased.

“Spot loves you.”

Before Robin can figure out how to reply to this like a normal human being who doesn’t blush and stutter over their words when they’re trying to communicate, the door opens, and the director comes into the waiting room. She extends an elegantly-manicured hand. 

“Hi, you must be Miss Robin. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Thank you so much for having me.”

“And who’s this?” The director withdraws her hand now and offers it to Chrom. “Are you the boyfriend?”

“No, but I am emotional support,” says Chrom easily, while Robin indulges in half a second of if-only fantasy. The director smiles.

“Well, thank you for coming, you two. We like to get students in here to interact with the kids. It’s good for them to see some different faces once in awhile.”

“Do students come in a lot?” asks Robin.

“Not as much as you might think. Of course we have our regular volunteers, and sometimes people need come in for a class, but it’s not often that we have someone do a long-term project with one of the kids.” The director waves Robin and Chrom towards her office now. “Come in, let’s go over some paperwork and get started, shall we?”

It takes awhile to finish up the paperwork, which Robin had been expecting, given that these are tiny, vulnerable little human lives that she’s going to be interacting with, but finally, the director puts the files away (after printing them off in triplicate) and takes out a new binder. This one is considerably thicker, and has manila folders stacked up inside.

“Here are our children,” she says. “At the moment, we have thirteen, though of course, they sometimes come and go. Now, you wanted to work with one only, is that right?”

“Yes. If possible, I’d prefer to work with a monolingual child with no SLI, but of course it depends on which ones you’re comfortable assigning.”

“Yes, of course.” The director thinks for a second, then takes out one of her manila folders. “All right, then would you like to work with Lucina?”

Robin shrugs. One kid is as good as any other. “Sure.”

The director smiles at this. “Great. She’s a lovely girl, but a bit lonely. Her biological parents aren’t in the picture, and I think that makes her feel different from the other kids. But you’ll like her.” She looks through the folder briefly, probably searching for information. “Usually, she comes in all day, from 8:00 until 4:30. When would you be able to come in and see her, and for how long?”

“Two hours, once or twice a week should be fine,” Robin tells her. She could probably get away with less than that, but she’s afraid of not collecting enough data and messing up her project and failing in spite of all this effort. It seems like a lot when she says it out loud, and for a second she’s worried that the director will say no, but fortunately, she accepts it happily.

“That will be perfect. Shall we say Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“Great. This should work out well. Would you like to start today?”

Robin looks at Chrom. He looks back at her. 

“Don’t ask me. This is your choice. I’m down for whatever.”

Okay. Robin gathers her courage in her hands. “If that’s alright, then yes. Is she here now?”

“She is. Would you both like to meet her?”

“Please,” Robin blurts out before Chrom can say anything. She needs all the support she can get right now, and after all, he did say he was down for anything. The director looks amused.

“All right. Come on, then. She should be in the playroom.”

Robin and Chrom follow the director through the preschool, stopping to say hi to the various kids that pop up like dandelions in their path. Or at least, Chrom and the director do. Robin awkwardly waves at them, feeling like a large, clumsy oaf. Why are kids so small, anyway? Can’t they just drink some milk and grow a little more? Fortunately, none of them seem to take much notice of her, except for a peppy little boy named Morgan who grabs her leg and tries to steal her keys off her belt-loop. 

“I like your keychain,” he explains, tugging on it.

Chrom ruffles his hair and pulls him away before he can break anything. “Leave the lady alone, kiddo. I’ll show you something better. Wanna see?” Morgan nods, so Chrom reaches into his pocket, and comes out with a string. “Here we go.”

“That’s not fun,” Morgan protests, but Chrom just holds it up.

“Wait.” He starts to knot the string between his hands, twisting it around until it looks like a little net running through his fingers. Then, with one more twist, he draws it into a something vaguely resembling a branch. “It’s a banana tree,” he says. “Here, pick one.”

Morgan hesitantly reaches up to take one of the loops hanging down, and at Chrom’s encouraging nod, pulls on it. The string structure in Chrom’s hands immediately changes shape, back into a net. Chrom laughs.

“Oh no, you took them all!”

Morgan’s starry-eyed, staring at him like he’s a bona-fide magician. “How did you do that?”

“Come along with us, and I’ll show you while Robin talks to Lucina.”

“Okay!”

Morgan grabs Chrom’s hand and starts trotting along happily, chattering to him about who-knows-what while he nods and smiles and makes encouraging noises. Robin tries to listen to what the director is telling her, but she can’t pay much attention when Chrom’s right there in her field of vision, being gosh-darn adorable with this little kid. It’s the weirdest thing; she wouldn’t have thought she had a soft spot for parental figures, but when Chrom explains something and Morgan’s eyes light up, or when he tells a joke and they laugh together, it makes her heart clench almost painfully. No doubt about it, Chrom is a miracle man.

Robin’s so focused on the little frat-boy-daddy show that she almost misses the little girl curled up in the corner with a coloring book. Fortunately, the director draws her attention.

“There you are, Lucina. You have a visitor!”

The little girl looks up, surprised, but still solemn, peering at Robin and Chrom with grave curiosity. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Robin, and this is Chrom,” Robin says. Somehow, she doesn’t feel as awkward with Lucina as she did with Morgan, maybe because Lucina seems like more of an old soul, less like a child, and therefore, less strange. “I’m here to ask for your help with a project I’m doing. Is that alright?”

Lucina regards her suspiciously. “What project?”

“It’s for a class I’m taking. I’m going to see how you talk, and compare it to the way that grown-ups talk.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s a good way of studying language. Kids speak differently, you know.”

“Why?”

“I mean… you’re younger. You have different vocabulary, rules, all that.”

“Why?”

Robin is really in over her head here. She looks at Chrom. “Why?”

“Well, Lucina,” says Chrom, leaving Morgan and sitting down in the corner beside her, “I think it’s kind of funny, too. Scientists are always studying weird things. Like the moon, dirt, dinosaurs…”

“Dinosaurs?” Now Chrom has Lucina’s attention. She sits up a little straighter. “Robin studies dinosaurs?”

“No, Robin doesn’t study dinosaurs.” Chrom makes his voice into a too-loud stage whisper, angled towards Lucina’s ear. “You probably know more than she does.”

Lucina giggles. Shyly, she turns her coloring book towards Chrom so he can see it. “I like dinosaurs. Look, I made a T-Rex.”

“Wow.” Chrom examines the coloring page closely, pretending to stroke his chin like an antiques appraiser. “This is very good, Lucina. Those colors are so pretty. I like the orange with the blue.”

Robin has no idea how he does it. He makes it look so natural, like it’s the easiest thing to talk to these kids, make them smile, fit perfectly into their world without trying. It’s amazing, and it’s impressive, and it’s making hundreds of butterflies flutter in her stomach. Sure, she’s always been impressed with his competence at everything he does, but this is a whole other level. From here on out, she’s past a point of no return-- done deal, she’s in love.

She sits down beside Chrom, internally cheering when Lucina doesn’t look scared or start crying or throw things at her or whatever it is that children do. “Do you like dinosaurs?” she asks.

It’s probably the silliest opening question ever, but Lucina accepts it happily. “I like them! They… um.  _ Beautiful _ .” Obviously, this last word is a relatively new addition to her vocabulary, and just as obviously, she’s proud of it. Robin can’t help but smile.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah! T-Rex is so big. She can fight-- woosh!” Lucina makes her tiny hands into fists and punches the air. Chrom looks mildly impressed with her technique.

“Do you like to fight?”

“I can fight!”

“Wow, you must be really strong. I bet you could beat up a dinosaur.”

“Chrom,” Robin hisses. “We should be encouraging pacifism. Not fighting dinosaurs.”

Chrom grins at her. He’s got the prettiest eyes, and they sparkle just like sapphires in the light. For a dude, he’s really unfairly pretty. “But Robin, she wants to.”

“Woosh,” adds Lucina, punching the air.

“Well.” Robin leans over and grabs the plastic bucket of dinosaur toys. She empties it onto the floor in front of Lucina. “Okay, then. If we’re going to fight, we’re going to do it the right way. It’s time to learn about strategy.”

\--

The director comes back into the playroom an hour later to find Robin, Chrom, Lucina, and Morgan surrounded by plastic dinosaurs, neck-deep in a live-action cross between chess and MMA. 

“Marth is coming in to back you up, Chrom,” Robin is saying, as she maneuvers Lucina’s T-Rex into formation behind her own apatosaurus. “You have to be ready, though, because he can only bring so much firepower before the other side engages. If we combine forces, we can summon up a decent enough offense to–”

“Hello, Robin,” says the director sternly. “I see you’re having fun.”

Robin jerks up guiltily, though she really has no reason to feel this way, because play-sessions are a valid research technique, dammit, and she’s allowed to collect data in a way that engages Lucina and keeps her comfortable. 

“Is it time to go already?” she asks.

The director nods, although she’s smiling now, in a way that makes Robin think she was never displeased by this state of affairs at all. “Come on, Lucina and Morgan, it’s time to clean up. You can see Robin and Chrom later.”

Lucina sweeps aside her dinosaur troops and crawls onto Robin’s lap. Robin isn’t expecting it, and doesn’t know how to react, but Lucina doesn’t seem to mind. She pats her on the head with a soft hand. 

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Tomorrow!” adds Morgan. 

Robin has to laugh. All of this is new, but it’s less scary than she thought it would be. Maybe she’s not the most comfortable with kids, but that’s okay. She has backup. 

As if echoing this thought, Lucina points at Chrom. “You come too!”

Chrom looks at Robin as if asking for permission, which is ridiculous, because he doesn’t need permission to come into her heart like this. He’s already here. She gives him the warmest nod possible, and he smiles, first at her, an intimate, affectionate gleam of sunshine that makes her want to melt, and then at Lucina and Morgan.

“I think that can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> In a perfect world, I would add some chapters to this, because I wrote an entire story in my head, but here's the general idea: Robin and Chrom work with Lucina throughout the entire quarter, they become a found family (along with Morgan), Robin confesses her love to Chrom, he reciprocates, they start going out, Robin gets an A on her project, everyone comes together and punches Grima in the face, and Lissa and Maribelle finally smooch.   
> the end ♥
> 
> by the way, the PEA is of course supposed to be like FEA !! in modern Greek, P is pronounced like F, so I reckon it's close enough :D


End file.
